Rollplay
by TenchiSaWaDa
Summary: There are times We let our swords do the talking. There are times where we let the Gloves do the talking. But always, no matter what happens, We always let the Dice Do the Rolling.
1. The Beginnings Part 1

**Hi Everyone. This is a Self made Prologue for the DnD Show: Rollplay. With JP, Incontrol, Livnpink, MLGRyan and SC2ranking Neal (Otherwise known as almighty, all powerful, master of all).**

**I decided to do this on a whim. I am not a professional writer, far from it. But I do write as hobby, albeit terribly. What I wanted to do is contribute to something I love. I have recently started to help log the episodes with Tuxalonso and RayzorFlash, under the screen name TenchiSaWada. **

**I've always loved Rollplay because I am a DnD'er myself. I recommend Rollplay to anyone. The youtube Vods are online or you can Subscribe to Itmejp for the the Twitch Vods. **

**Now, background. This story is not an official story. Let's say it straight: This is a fanfic. Now before you Ctrl+W immediately and begin washing yourself of internet cooties and watch cat videos on reddit, hear me out. **

**Fanfic is like any other form of fan work. Music, Art Etc. I encourage everyone to contribute, even if you don't think it's good (because it'll certainly be better than me.) Also, please critique me, as Learning is probably one of the best trails in life.**

**Please Comment and Rate**

**So Here we GO**

**Beginnings.**

* * *

_Destiny._ A constant in the world. It was something he had learned over the years, many years. Being in control for so long, to know what paths laid before people, he knew all to well what destiny was. It wasn't as inevitable or narrow as fate. No one was bound by it, no one was restricted by it. Destiny is a path, several paths, and every person has multiple destines. He had seen a beggar become a knight, he had seen a prince become a tyrant. These was all their destiny, one that he chose for them. One that he guided them to. But he grew bored of these simple manipulations. He grew tired of simply nudging the soul along, simply letting the pieces fall or build accordingly. No, he wanted something fresh, something more. People had many destinies. And than, in the fewest of numbers, there were people who didn't. They were rarer than dragons, and probably more dangerous. They were strange. They were like him. Those that did not have paths before them. Someone who was not bound to paths, to manipulations. No, these people, these souls were those beyond destiny. They were unbound.

They could be anything they wanted. Anything they chose. Destiny bowed before them, and they trod on it daily. It was today, after long years of calling, of pushing and of tugging, was he able to gather a group of people. Gather four souls who were beyond destiny.

The sun bore down, through the leaves, onto a cloaked figure. The, relatively, small man was kneeling down, looking at he ground intently as if to discern some information. On his back was a bow, already strung as if expecting battle. The man's dirty hands moved carefully through the soil, feeling different part. "The tracks are still fresh" he murmured to himself.

The man removed his hood, while reaching for his bow. He was not the athletic type, actually he was quite skinny, almost sickly skinny. The man attributed it to half starving and fighting his way across the sea and this land. He had gotten used to not eating much. The man's short blond hair messily clung to his skin, due to the sweat. Ladies wouldn't mind him, he was ruggedly handsome, being an elf and all. As he reached for his bow, he felt a twitch in his shoulder. Over the years of surviving, of struggling, he had learned to trust his instincts as a ranger.

The elf spun around, bow out, arrow notched, ready to fire at the person who was sneaking upon him. He was surprised to see another bow and elf staring right back at him. The elf was blonde with red eyes. She wore no cloak, but instead a pouch. He noticed, with a quick scan, that a small animal must be living in the bag, due to a lump moving around in it. He wouldn't call this elf a beauty, but she did look quite dangerous with that bow.

"Might I ask why you are here?" He said.

The female elf smirked. "Should the question not be, Who are you?"

The ranger raised an eyebrow. "oh? Is it not why you are here, better for the situation?"

The female laughed. "Is not who you are not, better for the conversation?"

He shrugged, though not taking his bow off her. "Sometimes it is better for our weapons to do the talking." He looked into the eyes of the Elf and saw her eyes shift for a moment, as if surprised by something. He did not bother to turn around, as he had heard what was approaching easily. Though, he was more focused on what was behind this elf as well.

"My name is Bregor" He grunted out. "I am a ranger."

The elf smiled, "I am Abigael. Resident Spender of others gold."

"A theif?" Bregor said, raiding an eyebrow.

The elf smiled. "A opportunist." With that, the thief shifted her bow to the right and fired. Bregor, shifted his aim towards the goblin that was approaching Abigael from behind. His aim was true and the arrow sunk in between the eyes of the goblin. It fell without so much as a whimper.

Abigael lowered her bow and sighed. "I was here to hunt this goblins. They killed a trader a couple miles back. I went to go collect the stolen goods."

Bregor nodded. He had been hunting the pair of goblins that had been terrorizing the trading roads. While they were not especially dangerous, they did cause trouble. He watched as the thief immediately started looting the bodies.

"What is in your pouch by the way?" Bregor asked. Now interested in the moving lump, iner her bag. The other elf's eyes brightened.

"You mean Mr. Mugwuggles." Bregor held in a snort. The elf didn't seem to notice. She was too excited as she reached into her pack and brought out a ferret and held it out for Bregor to see.

"This is Mr. Mugwuggles. Give him a high five."

The ferret as if on cue, raised its little hand. Bregor, as he raised his hand and tapped the hand in disbelief, thought to himself. 'what have I gotten myself into.'

* * *

A large, well built man walked up to the bar carefully. He didn't clang loudly in his armor, he knew how to move silently when he wanted to. His training was quite, relentless in adapting. He sidled up next to his target and sat down. He blanched at the smell, but kept his face from showing his disgust. He had smelt worse things.

"Hello friend." He said in a low voice.

His target turned and eyed him, while drinking his alcohol. "And who might you be? You look kind of fancy for this kind of establishment."

The human felt a pang of annoyance. He had chosen this armor and grown out his hair as to not attract attention. He sighed inwardly, there was still many things he still needed to learn.

"Just came to warn you friend. Those men in the corner have been eyeing your hide for the last hour and a half. They probably mean you harm."

The half ogre snorted. "I know. Though you should probably buy yourself a drink as to not look suspicious."

The warrior blinked and grunted. "I probably should stay sober in case-"

The taller man just laughed and looked at the barkeep. "An apple juice for this man please."

The barkeep nodded and placed a glass in front of him. The warrior nodded his head in thanks.

"My name is Vincent." He muttered while taking a sip of this apple juice. He had never had this concoction in his old home. They were above this kind of peasant drink. The flavor filled his mouth and sent a shiver down Vincent's spine. "This is … quite good."

The half-ogre let out a bark of laughter. "My name is Tudagub. Now, you should probably leave before you get yourself in trouble. Many do not like the company of a half-ogre, or those in the half-ogre's company."

Vincent let out a smirk. "I can take care of my self, friend. Though it seems you can as well." he nodded towards the maul on the Half-ogre's belt. Tudagub ignored the small talk as he noticed several men getting up and walking towards them. Downing his drink, the green skinned man stood up and faced the newcomers. Noticing the shift, Vincent turned around and put his hand on his sword. 5 men surrounded them, some of them swaying from the amount of alcohol they had consumed.

"Yo' ha'f blooded pig. Sh'uld git out." One of the older, bearded man slurred pointing at Tudagub. Vincnet took in the man's hands. The man's hand was calloused and scarred, though his knuckles were not. That meant either farmer or craftsmen, unlikely to have been a soldier. Good.

Tudagub simply burped. "You could just leave and save yourself the trouble"

The man, ignored the half-ogre, moving in to take a swing. Tudagub leaned back, fist missed wide. Vincent moved forward and smashed his first into the man's cheek. The drunk fell to the floor knocked cold. The brawl ensued.

Tudagub and Vincent went back to back, as they both were facing two people each. But for farmers and craftsmen to go against two adventurers, it was child's play.

Tudagub reached out with both arms and quickly grabbed the two men's heads. His large hands easily grasped the sides of their face. Pulling them both in, the half-ogre smashed the two drunks heads together. With a loud clunk, the men crumpled to the ground, clutching their heads and dazed.

Vincent dashed forward, lashing out with a jab at the man to his left. His gauntlet pushed into the man's face, a sickening crack was heard as the man's nose was broken. The man to Vincent's right had taken out a knife and stabbed at Vincent.

Raising his right arm, Vincent grunted as the blade stabbed into his right forearm. Suddenly, Tudagub reached and held Vincent's attacker's arms. Vincent relaxed slightly as he reasoned, the drunk wouldn't be able to free himself from Tudagub's grip.

"Hold him still if you would, Tudagub." Vincent growled as he pulled the knife out of his arm, dropping it to the ground. Vincent stared into the drunk's eyes.

"Bringing a knife to a bar fight." Vincent shook his head in disgust. Taking off his right glove, Vincent reached back and slapped the man. A loud clap was heard through out the bar. Many people gasped, making a sound for the first time since the bar fight started. Other people flinched at the strength of the blow. Some even touched the cheek as if they had been struck. But all of them thought 'That was when hell of a slap.'

The man in Tudagub's grip slumped like a puppet losing it's strings, unconscious. Vincent sighed as he looked at his arm, it would probably need bandages.

"Ahem" Tudagub coughed. As he looked at the arm, "Thank you for helping me, Vincent, correct?"

Vincent nodded. "That is correct my friend. We should go find some bandages, wouldn't want to stain my clothes."

Tudagub smirked, "Allow me to give you a massage, you will feel much better."

Vincent cocked his head to the side, in confusion. "A massage?"

Tudagub reached forward, "In thanks, Please I must insist"

Vincent shrugged and gave the man his arm. Tudagub took the arm and massaged it, muttering under his breath. Vincent's eyes widened as he watched his wound close.

"You are a cleric?" Vincent gasped.

Tudagub let go of Vincent's arm. "I've been told, that I've surprised many people."

Vincent smiled at this. "Rightly so. Shall we go find another bar friend?"

Tudagub gave the human a wide smile. "We shall"

"So you want this to be transported towards Fitchview"

"yes" Replied a thin, bald man. Bregor evaluated his newest client. As an adventurer, money was hard to come by, unless you got lucky. So taking jobs, while traveling from one city to the next, was a benefit in itself.

"Will we have to come back for payment?"

The man shook his head. "No, I will be giving you a letter and half the payment, my contact at Fitchview will give you the rest of the payment."

Bregor looked left towards his newest partner in crime, well she mostly committed the crime, while he watched. Abigael looked up, from playing with her ferret, Mr. mugwuggles if he remembered correctly, and nodded.

Bregor turned and smiled, "good we'll take the job."

The man nodded quickly before pausing. "You should know that I have hired another pair, as these goods are quite expensive. Your payment, however, will not be changed."

Bregor shrugged. Two extra pair of hands was always good in his opinion.

"When will this pair be arriving."

"We are already here, friend." A voice called behind him. The voice held an air of confidence, or arrogance depending on how you listened to it. Bregor turned and careful not to draw his bow, he grew twitchy when people came from behind.

Bregor saw a two tall warriors walking towards them. One of them carried a sword, the other a maul. They didn't seem, sinister, no he felt something else. He felt as if he had met them before but...

Bregor mentally shook himself from his thoughts and nodded towards them.

"Well met, My name is Bregor." Gesturing towards his elf companion. "This is Abigael."

The human nodded towards him, in acknowledgement. "My name is Vincent. This is Tudagub. Well, I see no time to waste. Shall we get to know each other while traveling?"

Bregor nodded, and looked towards Neal for final instructions and the goods. Neal held out a small bag. "These are very precious, please do not damage them or you will lose pay from my contact."

Bregor nodded, taking the bag and strapping it to his bag. "Let us head towards Fitchview than."

And that was the first time the party was assembled.


	2. The Beginnings Part 2

**Beginnings Part 2**

* * *

'These people are very strange' The prince thought to himself. As he walked along side his two newest companions. The two elves were chatting together in their own language. Of what, he did not know. Tudagub, his half-ogre friend, was drinking out of his wineskin. Shaking his head, Vincent returned his eyes towards the road.

It was strange though, walking with these people. His usual company was either with snobby nobles or pompous knights. Sometimes, his eye caught onto a fair maiden and spent the night with her, but not often. He was bored, in short, of the castle. Being anyone other than the First prince, Vincent got the pleasant task of sitting there and looking pretty, nothing else. He had no claim to the throne and was not a scholar, so he could not pursue that field either. He trained hard under his tutors, worked his way into the military, earning his keep.

But his father, King Longborn, knew, or probably inferred, his boredom and gave Vincent a quest. To bring back an item of great power and value, to explore the world. Vincent almost snorted as he heard the words in his head once more. His father might as well have said to go out and kick it for a few years.

Vincent scanned the tree line once more, muscle memory moving and guiding him. He almost froze as he saw a flicker of movement. The highborn did not squint to see the shadow clearly or even twitch his hands. He simply kept scanning the tree line, looking for more shadows. It could have been a deer, a rabbit even, but if there were more flickers than...

The male elf bumped into him, their shoulders touching briefly. Vincent looked over to the elf, Bregor. Immediately, Vincent understood from the look on Bregor's face. It was sharp, focused, and looking past Vincent, at something behind him.

'How many' Vincent asked Bregor. Though not out loud. He willed himself to think of it as loud as he could, as if trying to send the message directly to Bregor's mind. Bregor smirked, getting the message. The ranger mouthed, 'Six'.

A shadow flickered in the treeline behind Tudagub. Tudagub, who was still drinking, seemed to have noticed the other males' interaction and while his left hand was holding the wineskin steady for his mouth, his right hand was on his maul.

"NOW!" Vincent heard a call from behind him. 6 Men came pouring out of the trees. 3 of them charged at Him and Bregor, the other three moved to attack Tudagub and Abigael. Vincent noted, almost subconsciously, that these men were dirty and had rusty weapons. 'Bandits' Vincent thought with annoyance.

Abigael, who had been playing with her ferret, immediately took out a dagger and threw it at one of her attackers. The Dagger flew true and straight into the right eye of poor soul. With a squelch and a thud, the man fell to the ground. Mr. mugwuggles crawled down Abigael's arm and jumped into her pouch to hide.

Tudagub, still drinking, grabbed his maul and swung it upwards. The man closest to the half-ogre cleric, fell backwards as the maul cracked his chin. As he was falling backwards, the man swung wildly, cutting the healer's wineskin. Tudagub stared in horror as his precious wine dripped onto the floor. The man on the ground groaned in pain as he blinked his eyes rapidly to clear his vision. He saw a large figure standing over him.

"You spilled my wine, I spill your brains." Tudagub smashed into the man's face, caving in the man's skull.

Vincent ducked as a blade passed over his head. He stabbed sharply at the man's center of mass, making sure to keep his shield in front of him. His opponent moved to his left, Vincent's strike nicking his side. Vincent spun around, slicing as he did so, using his momentum to add power and speed. The man screamed once in pain as a large gash appeared across his chest. The prince watched as the bandit fell to the ground, bleeding out.

"Watch out!" A voice called out from behind him. Vincent spun around, raising his shield. Just in time, as a mace smashed into him, knocking him backwards. The mace wielder moved in to strike again but an arrow immediately lodged itself into his neck. Vincent gave a quick nod to his friend and faced his final opponent. This one stood angrily, wielding a large two handed sword.

Abigael rolled backwards, avoiding an overhead strike from a club. The club wielding, and quite disgusting looking in Abigael's opinion, human ran after her.

"A little help here!" Abigael cried out. Dodging out of the way of another swing, Abigael jumped backwards in hopes of gaining distance. The man raised his club again, to strike. A Maul clipped the back of the man's head. The burly man fell flat on his face, club leaving his hand. Not wasting time, the female elf immediately stabbed the man's neck, ending his life.

"Uggh," Abigael groaned. She hated blood, it got all over the loot. Taking out and cleaning her dagger, the thief moved to loot the bodies.

"Aren't you going to help the others?" A gruff voiced called to her. The elf looked up at the ogre, who was drinking from a cut wineskin.

Abigael looked at her fellow elf and the human, who were doing battle with a two handed sword wielding warrior. She shrugged. "Eh, I think they've got it. Plus, I want the loot. First come, first serve." She said as she started to check the fresh corpse's pockets. 'ohh, some gold' the thief thought to herself excitedly.

'Damn it all to hell' Vincent thought to himself. The two handed sword smashed into his shield, causing him to stumble backwards. Vincent readied his sword to stab at the final bandit, when he felt a pierce in his arm.

"Shit, sorry Vincent." The elf called out, sounding embarrassed.

Vincent stepped backwards, half keeping an eye on the bandit, the other half looking down at his arm. An arrow was stuck in his arm, luckily it was quite shallow. Dropping his shield, Vincent grabbed the arrow and pulled it out. "No worries friend." Vincent growled out, gritting his teeth in annoyance. "Just be more careful next time." Bregor nodded and raised his bow to fire, but as if some god had it out for the poor elf, the bow slipped out of his fingers.

Vincent's jaw dropped in shock. "How the hell-" Vincent back peddled to avoid a swing from his attacker. Vincent glared at the attacker as if to say 'I'M TALKING HERE!' and turned back to Bregor.

"How the hell do you even drop your bow!? I thought you were a Ranger?" Vincent called out in exasperation. Bregor sighed as he bent down to pick up his bow.

"Self trained ranger. I should probably just stop fighting right now. It seems once I get 1 event of bad luck, it seems to stick for awhile." Vincent, right there, just wanted to throw his hands in the air and yell in exasperation. What was with these peasants? Was every adventurer as crazy as this?!

The two handed bandit yelled in anger of being ignored and charged at Vincent, with an overhead swing. Vincent, sensing the attack, rolled forward and stabbing upwards. His blade cleanly entering the man's abdomen. The bandit's eyes widened in shock and then dimmed as he fell backwards to the ground.

Vincent sighed as he stood up, cracking his back. He looked down and blinked. Not even 23 seconds had passed and the female elf had started to loot the body. The man was still dying and she was looting his body.

"Are you really that gold hungry, Abigael" Vincent asked as he picked up his shield.

Abigael raised an eye brow at him. "Aren't you?" The thief pocketed more gold and moved onto other bodies. Bregor shrugged and walked towards the rest of the party. And for some reason, Bregor tripped over one of the bodies.

Strange. These people were so damn strange. Vincent thought to himself. A self trained, anorexic ranger, a gold-hungry, ferret owning thief, and a drunk, half-ogre cleric. Vincent shook his head as he chuckled to himself. And he was the Prince with a Quest, that was actually a vacation. What the hell had he gotten himself into.

"Here is your item, Undamaged." Bregor gently laid the sack onto the table. The clerk took the bag, opened it slightly before nodding towards the party. "Thank you and here is your payment. Please leave as I have to go close up for the day." The man handed them a small sack of gold and moved towards the backroom.

Bregor turned towards the rest of his new party and smiled. "A job well done. I saw a bar back there, should we head there to split the gold."

The human nodded. "I think we should stick together for now. At least till we get a new job. Safety in numbers and all."

Bregor nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

And the party went to an Inn.

* * *

"Good, very good." The hooded figure whispered to himself. A tall, skinny man looked at the mirror in front of him. Except, the mirror was not showing his reflection but rather: a human, two elves and a half ogre sitting at an inn.

"Up to your meddling ways, I assume, Neal."

Neal didn't bother turning around to face his visitor. He had felt his presence enter this world, moments ago.

"What are you doing here, I thought you were toying with those... fanatics." Neal smirked. He could feel the annoyance coming from the visitor.

"They are not fanatics, merely, unified. More than I can say for your pitiful planet."

Neal turned around, crossing his arms. "This planet is special, as I have told you countless times. And as I have proven." Neal gestured towards the mirror. "Four of them, together."

His visitor paused. The man was pale, like Neal, but had longer, lighter shade of brown hair. Instead of a cloak, the man wore some type of heavy armor, that glinted from the Mirror's light.

"I see. Strange." The man whispered.

Neal raised an eye brow. "What is it, Lumpkin? Strange that I am right once again?"

Steve snorted, shaking his head. "For the last time call me Steve, Erickson. No, its not that. Its just..." Steve sighed as he looked at Neal. "Four have gathered in my realm as well. Four Unbound, Neal. Exactly."

Neal froze. The implications of such a meeting. "A..." Neal swallowed, a lump building his throat. "A synergy?"

Steve shrugged. "If this is true, you might want to check on your other realms, see if other Unbound are gathering as well. If this is truly a synergy..." Steve's voice trailed off.

The two Unbound paused, staring at the mirror. Both realizing the implication of a synergy, of War of the Unbound.

Neal closed his eyes. "You have your duty, I have mine. We shall see where this goes. Though I cannot predict how it will end."

Steve snorted at the comment. "Of course you can't. We're Unbound. We never know what is going to happen."

With that, Steve disappeared in a swirl of purple, chaotic energy. Neal watched him go, before turning back to the mirror. Watching as a red, cloaked figure approach the Bartender.

Neal smiled. Yes. He did not know where this would go. He did not know what they would face. He did not know what he, himself, would face. But he did know one thing.

Everyone would have a Role to Play.


	3. Epilogue

**Where we Fell and where we landed**

**This is a fanfic. No. A tribute to a story that has made me laugh, cry, scream in indignation, and fall in love. Rollplay has been one of the constant fixtures of entertainment and had made me want to rip my hair out as well as get a DVD collection of. **

**Here we go**

* * *

Out of all the things that could have happened. Out of all the things that went right and so so wrong. She was left alive. Only her. The useless one. The one who always hid. The one who let them down. That is what she told herself when she cried to sleep in the forest. Living off of the woods, not caring for the events of the lands.

She never settled down, never went into towns, not after, _not after that._ She traveled south, aimlessly. She didn't know how long, she didn't care. Traveling light, taking only her daggers and her pouches. She couldn't recover the cloth, nor anything to remember them by. _Them. _They were ripped away from her. While she hid, did nothing, failed them.

The club smashed into his body. He flailed about like a rag doll.

His skin seemed to boil, and his body burst with steam.

He laid there dead, blood pooling.

NO! The elf closed her eyes, clutching her hands to her chest. Her heart pounding so loud it hurt. No no no. She did not want to see it. See those horrible images. She ran. Ran as fast as her feet could carry her, any where but here. Farther away. She needed to run.

And than she fell.

Tumbling down the side of the cliff, the elf with red eyes was hit by stray rocks and rolled to a halt at the bottom of the hill. Her conscious leaving her as she watched a shadow approach her.

* * *

Warmth. There was a blanket over her. It felt nice. She had a horrible dream. That Tudagub had died. And than these horrible, horrible things happened. Oh well, she'll wake up and tease the pink booted half-ogre, that will make the dream go away.

Abigael woke up, eyes blurry, registering a ceiling. Than she remembered.

"NO!" She cried sitting up, pain racking through her body. Tears welled up in her eyes, she cried. She sobbed, breath shuddering. "No, Vincent. No they're all." She clenched her fists.

A knock on the side of a door. Abigael jolted into action, Adrenaline rushing through her, she sprang up, in a crouched position, ready to charge, eyes looking around wildly. Trying to find an exit, a weapon.

"HALT! You are injured do not move."

Abigael froze that voice sounded familiar. It was than she noticed her surroundings. She was not in a dungeon, or anywhere she expected to be. She was actually somewhere quite nice, a soft cotton bed, a candle next to her, even a desk and a small wooden chair. She looked at the person who had called to her and her breath slipped away. He was dressed in fine plate mail, but his hair, it was straight and black like Vincents. Even his voice sounded like his. She swallowed deeply. And than winced as she felt her wounds take their toll on her. She placed her palms on the ground, trying to keep herself up. A strong hand grasped her forearm and pulled her up gently.

"Easy miss, We found you on the outskirts of the Palace woods. We took you in because we needed information."

Abigael looked up at the man, and sniffed. Wiping her eyes, "I don't know how much I could help you. I- I am not very good... at anything."

The man raised an eyebrow but did not comment. "Come the king would like to speak with you."

Abigael nodded and looked down. She was dressed in fine clothes, or at least what she thought were fine clothes. The man led her through hallways made of stone, she looked around curious, though mainly looking for exits and escape paths. 'It is strange though, that they only have one guard to escort me to meet the king. They might as well. It is not like I can do much' she thought bitterly.

The man walked through two grand doors, which opened up into a meeting chamber of sorts. There was a man dressed in fine clothes, that made her stop in surprise. 'Vincent!' she cried out in her head. But no. This man was older, his hair graying, his eyes a different color. She shook her head and walked after her guide.

"Ah, the elf we found at the outskirts. Are you well?" The man asked. His tone polite, yet casual, nothing what you expect from a noble.

"I am well." Abigael paused. "Your Highness." She added quickly.

The man smiled, _like he did_. "hmmph. Are you from the north?"

"Ah, I come from the Elf Isles. But I have been to Valesburg, if that is what you are asking." She answered.

The man nodded. The smile left his face, in place a grim line and determination. "I have been hearing rumors. Unsettling rumors that an army is overtaking the lands. There is a speak of Dragons as well."

Abigael closed her eyes, their failed mission, their nightmare adventure. "Y-yes" She stammered out.

"It is true?"

She nodded. "A man name _Oris_. " She spat out the name in disguist. "A cleric. Is taking over the lands, destroying everything in his path. He is using dragons as well."

The king rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing. "So. You know the name of the leader?"

"I-" Abigael started but stopped. Looking away. She couldn't take it anymore. The man looked too much like Vincent. She wanted to cry out to him.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" The King asked, his eyes flickering to his guard. The guard shrugged and the king refocused on her.

"No." her voice a whisper. "it is just. You look like someone I knew."

"Oh?" The king asked in surprise. "Did this person have a name?"

"Vincent." Abigael sniffed.

The king laughed. "Ah, Vincent is it. He had black hair, cracked a lot of jokes."

Abigael chuckled, though her heart pained her. "Yes. Yes he did. Loved to joke. Even at the most inopportune times."

"It seems my brother, never got out of that habit." The guard said

Abigael eyes widened in shock as she stared at the guard. He was his brother. That meant.

"you are King Longborn."

The man smiled jovially. "Yes, I am. Tell me more news about my son. Does he fight this Army?"

The man looked excited to finally hear news about his son. And here, she would tell him.

"Your son is dead." She spoke quietly.

The room was silent. No one moved, no one breathed. Abigael felt her chest being stabbed over and over again as she stared into the king's eyes. Is eyes went into shock, than grief, than anger.

"How." The king asked quietly, almost as quietly as she had answered.

"I was fighting with him. Against the Voraci army. We were winning. We were doing so well. And than. In a town. We fought. Vincent fought an officer. He-." Abigael swallowed. "he-" She tried to finish. She fell to her knees and let it out. Tears once more streaming down her face. She sobbed uncontrollalby.

She felt arms wrap around her as she cried. She felt her hair being stained with tears as well. It felt like hours, but than she stopped and looked back. Not back to the king. Not back to a wall. Not even back to the north. She looked back at her friends. Them. The only ones.

They were strong. They were powerful. She was weak. She was useless.

No more.

She withdrew from the King's embrace, his face marred with grief. She bowed her head and her voice, louder than she had spoken in days.

"My King Longborn. I swear to you, I will kill Oris. He is the cause of this army. He is the cause of all my pains. Off my friends deaths. I swear to you on my name, my blood, the souls of my friends, and everything I am. I will avenge him."

The king rose up, his back straightening. She could feel the anger within him. It comforted her.

"And you shall not be alone. I will unite the southern lands and _I will have my vengeance_."

* * *

"Have you seen our commander, Geoff?" Ryan asked. Ducking a sword blow to the head and stabbing upwards, his blade piercing through his enemy's chest.

"No!" His partner called out. Blocking a sword strike and replying in kind.

"Apparently, we're being led by an elf." Geoff called out. Kicking a man in the manly parts. The soldier squeaked and fell down. The knight of Longborn plunged his sword into the man's skull, ending him.

"An elf?" Ryan questioned, finishing off his opponent. Turning to his friend, since there was no longer any visible enemies.

Geoff nodded. "Yea. Apparently, the king wanted her to lead, some kind of vendetta."

"Did she know...' Ryan paused, while walking towards the clamor of fight. "Did she know he prince?"

Geoff shrugged. "Don't know. But-"

Suddenly a man jumped out of the door, Sword raised to strike him. "DIE!"

Geoff felt his life flash before his eyes. He heard metal sink into flesh. Blinking slowly, he looked at the body at his feet.

"you should pay more attention to your surroundings." A quiet voice called out to them.

Geoff turned towards the voice and saw it was the Elf they had been talking about. With gold hair, and red eyes. A dagger in her hand, she glared at them.

"Thank you for the help." Geoff nodded to her. She looked away, towards the fires in the distance.

"Follow me. We have battle to do." She moved quickly past them, taking out her bow.

"Damn. It's said she killed a dragon by herself too." Ryan whispered, quickly following the commander.

Geoff nodded dumbly and followed.

* * *

The familiar pump of blood flew through her veins. She was in a battle once more. She had been in many battles, since joining the Longborn army. She had led them through the north, reclaiming villages, towns, keeps, castles. When dragons were sent her way, she killed them. By herself if she must. She would no longer hide, she would no longer be useless.

Quickly grabbing an arrow from her quiver, she shot it at an archer in the distance. It pierced his head easily, and he toppled to the ground like a puppet that lost it strings. She jumped out of the way of arrows and returned in kind. Three arrows and three kills. She had no time to waste on these petty fools. She had chosen to lead this attack for a reason. He-

An arrow flew towards her head. She snatched it out of the air with her right hand. Spinning it in her fingers, she notched it in her bow. Pulling back and firing, she returned the arrow to its owner.

"Oris. I am coming for you." Abigael growled. Stalking forward, blood red eyes searching for her prey.

* * *

It did not take long for the elf to find him. Abigael had taken to the roofs, picking off men from the Vorasi army easily. She followed the banners, a string of them, towards the center of the town, the town square. She moved quickly, not bothering to hide, not bothering to listen or look for traps. She was hunting.

And there he was. The slimy, disgusting bastard. The former cleric was standing in between three heavily armored guards wielding giant two handed swords. There were several archers on the roof tops. It would be suicide to go down there.

But she did the only thing she could think of. She jumped down, firing an arrow at Oris.

The arrow flew true, but it burst into flames even before it reached him.

She glared at him, bubbling anger rising once more from the pit of her stomach. She growled and trembled in anticipation.

"Ah. Abigael. It seems you have come finally. I wondered when you would decide to take revenge for your friends." Oris slurred, his voice dripping with contempt.

Abigael roared charging forward, firing arrow after arrow, at the guards, at the archers, at Oris.

Abigael felt a flash of pain as an arrow pierced her arm. She kept going. The three guards had moved in front of Oris, blocking her revenge. The first one swung at her, attempting to cut her head off.

She nimbly ducked under it, grabbing her dagger and plunging it into the man's open neck. The man crumpled, dropping his sword. She felt and heard arrows being launched to her left. Spinning the fresh corpse around, she used it as a shield to block the arrows.

' I have to take care of those-' Before she could finish the thought. The two idiots she had saved earlier were already upon the archers, hacking and lashing their way through them. Abigael let a grunt, not like she could reject the help. She turned back to the two remaining guards. The moved side by side, approaching her with caution.

Pulling her dagger from the corpse, a load, sickening pop was heard, she pulled Lord Fang's dagger out, wielding it in her left hand.

"Time to die." She growled.

Abigael ran forward. The two men swung in unison, both aiming to dismember her. Abigael slid on her knees to get under the swords. She stabbed forward with her left dagger, it pierced through the man's crotch. He doubled over, shrieking in pain. Abigael gave the man a cruel smile and shoved her Daggers of returning into the man's eyes, ending him.

Hearing the whistling of air, she spun around, letting a large blade pass mere centimeters from her. The blade sunk into her previous kill's body.

"To slow." the Elf chuckled, slitting the man's throat. He fell down the ground, blood now pooling on the floor.

"Finally. Just you and me. _Oris_." Abigael spat. She turned to the cleric. Intent on ending it. But than she saw her mistake.

Oris smiled, his face crunched with cruel malice. "Finally. You fall." He slurred.

Black light, erupted from his hands and straight onto Abigael. Instincts taking over her, Abigael raised her left arm, in a futile attempt to block the blast.

She was sent careening back, smashing through a wall. Pain erupted through her arm, her vision blurred, her body felt it was on fire. She had failed. She looked her left. And found her left arm missing, her body burnt. She couldn't do it. She couldn't take revenge.

"HA" Oris cackled. "It seems you were lucky enough to survive my blast."

Lucky? A stray thought crossed her mind.

"Do not worry though. My dear. I will end it for you." Oris started forward.

Lucky was not a word you would use with her. That was for a half-ogre.

Calm was not a word you would use for her either. That was for an elf.

Cunning was for a Dark Wizard.

Staunch was for a Dwarf.

Brave was for a Prince.

Oris had reached her, smiling in a sickeningly sweet way.

"Good bye." He raised his hand. And than she threw. Her aim was threw, her dagger pierced his throat. Oris's eyes bulged in shock as he fell backwards.

Abigael stood up, over him, staring at him. She felt unsteady but never more resolute. She grabbed her dagger, kneeling down to get a better grip, and pulled it from the man's throat. "That was for Vincent."

She stabbed again. "That was for Horus." Oris twitched.

Again. "For Azril." Blood started to lick her boots.

Again. "For Bregor." She sniffed, her lone hand shaking.

Again. "For Tudagub." She closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath.

She stood up, letting the dagger stay in the man's face. She walked a couple paces away. She heard the calls of her soldiers. People yelling for healers and yet. She heard...

"Come on Abigael. Are you going to drink that? Or are you going to let your ferret do it for you?" Abigael smiled as she saw her friends in the distance. All at the table, drinks in hand. Smiling at her. Waving for her to come join the festivites.

And than she fell.

* * *

Through cycles. Through Ages. Through lives.

"Alright Neal. Where did we leave off?" The glasses wearing nerd asked, as he reached under his desks for a beer.

"I believe we just found a +5 Sword?" A blonde haired muscular man cut in.

"And a +6 Bow." a bearded man, added in a monotone voice.

"No. No. no." the Dungeon master spoke up. Rolling his eyes. He looked over his notes.

"Gen. You leveled up."

"Oh I did?" Said the only female in the party.

Neal went through the motions. Led the party through their next adventure. 'Strange. I had a really weird sense of deja vu when I thought of this storyline. And why does my neck feel tingly?' Neal shrugged it off and continued with his story.


End file.
